


Dress down

by Trash



Series: Kinktober 2017 [7]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Kinktober 2017, M/M, day 7: cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: Through a picture of him now widely circulating the internet, is not how he had wanted his friends and boyfriend to find out he likes to wear dresses.





	Dress down

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober day seven: cross dressing.

There are some conversations Kyle never saw himself having. Like apologising to a hotel for setting off their fire alarms and causing a mass evacuation at three in the morning in Newcastle in November because he had tried to have a sneaky fag in the bathroom, two weeks after assuring the rest of the band that he had packed in.

Or, say, that time at a family dinner when his dad kept going on and on about him finding the right girl at university and not getting anyone pregnant and did he know condoms aren’t 100% effective? And, like, girls can get knocked up even when they’re on the pill? And his mum didn’t look up from her food the entire time because nobody wants to picture the things their son will potentially get up to at uni. Especially not if it’s, according to Kyle’s dad, use fault condoms and knock up every single girl in halls. So Kyle waited until his dad’s weird sex chat had come to a conclusion and dropped the well that’s okay, dad, I’m gay bomb.

Or that time he drunkenly confessed to Dan that the only reason he joined his band was because he fancied him. And yeah, the music was good, but did Dan know how bloody cute he was? Did he have any idea how much Kyle wanted to just, like, snog his face off?  
  
The point is, you can plan some conversations in your head but it’s never, ever happens the way you want it to.  
  
So yeah, Kyle had been meaning to talk to Dan for…okay years, it’s been years…about this. Something he had thought was normal, until he had spoken to his ex about it who promptly dumped him because he doesn’t date sissy boys. And Google had taught him that this was considered a fetish.  
  
But it’s not like he was interested in the other stuff on the list of fetishes Google offered him, so what was real here? Was he a freak?  
  
So he learned to compartmentalise. And that meant not telling Dan. Which could be considered as lying by omission, but Kyle considered it to be self-preservation. If Dan was anything, judgemental he was not, but everybody has a thing they don’t like. And Kyle didn’t think he could handle being dumped for being a sissy boy more than once in his life time.  
  
So he didn’t tell him. He just saved it for the handful of mates who got it, and made sure he was careful. It helped that he and Dan both lived in separate house shares, so moving in together wasn’t on the cards.  
  
But then life happened, with its bullshit. And a photo surfaced the way all good shocking photos do – first on Snapchat, then everywhere. And Kyle could only kid himself that Dan, and the others, hadn’t seen it for so long. He lay in bed with his head under his pillow and wondered if he could just suffocate himself when Janna walked in with a cup of tea in his favourite mug.  
  
And, living up to the sissy boy image he had carefully cultivated for himself, he cried.  
  
“They’ll have seen it by now,” he said.  
  
Janna stroked his hair. “I know babes, but it’s fine. They’re good lads. Dan’s not going to give a shit.”  
  
“It’s not even my favourite outfit,” he moaned, and Janna rolled her eyes.  
  
The point is, through a picture of him lying in a gutter, high-heeled feet in the air and a fag between his fingers, nail varnish chipped and black tulle dress bunched up from the fall. Through a picture of him now widely circulating the internet, is not how he had wanted his friends and boyfriend to find out he likes to wear dresses.  
  
After his stress cry he rings Dan, who answers the phone like someone who hasn’t seen a photo of his boyfriend wearing a dress and high heels lying pissed in a gutter. “Morning, sunshine,” he says. “Was just about to ring you.”  
  
“Oh,” Kyle says, laughing awkwardly, “great minds and all that.”  
  
“So how you feeling? Hanging out your arse?”  
  
“You’ve seen the photo then?”  
  
“Yeah, you looked rat arsed mate. We’re meant to be getting lunch together today, so you better not vom on my food.”  
  
Kyle feels cheated. Surely there should be some huge blow up about this? Or at least a discussion? “You still want to have lunch with me?”  
  
“Of course I do, you twat,” Dan says, but his tone is soft and warm. “Was that just a one off, or…”  
  
“No, not just a one off.”  
  
Dan ‘hmm’s. “Wish you’d told me. I don’t want you to think you can’t be yourself with me. Your whole self. Especially in those heels. Jesus. Hardly a surprise you fell over.”  
  
So they go out for lunch. And Kyle really does consider putting on a dress with a cat print and his bright pink Nikes but…one step at a time. The bar has the potential to be pretentious but it isn’t, because Dan picked it. And Dan doesn’t have a pretentious bone in his body. Despite wanting to give David Lynch a rim job and using long words all the fucking time. He’s got his phone in his hand when Kyle sits down opposite him and he tells himself that if Dan is looking at that fucking photo he’ll break his wrist and throw his phone in the Thames and if you can’t trust yourself then who can you trust?  
  
But he’s actually just texting his mum.  
  
“Really?”

Dan holds his phone up to show him. “Really. Anyway, this probably isn’t the place to talk about it.”  
  
“No. It’s fine, really. Let’s just…get it over with.”  
  
Dan reaches across the table and puts his hands over Kyle’s, a public display of affection that they’d both normally shy away from for no other reason than PDAs are gross. He ghosts his thumbs over Kyle’s knuckles. “I’m not going to take the piss, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
“Dunno what I’m worried about.”  
  
“You looked really great in that dress,” Dan says. He blushes, pulling their hands apart when their server sets down the beers Dan has ordered for them both. “Hair of the dog,” he says, pushing one toward Kyle.  
  
“I wasn’t even that drunk, you know.”  
  
“That’s what someone who was off their tits on jager-bombs would say.”  
  
And yeah, okay, there’d been a few jager-bombs. And some of those shots in test tubes, because Kyle is nothing if not a classy bird.  
  
“So you really don’t care, about the dress thing?”  
  
“Nothing to care about, mate. S’just clothes. I think the only issue I have is the fucking cigarette. Would you just quit smoking, already? Kissing you is like licking an ashtray.”  
  
Kyle laughs, aware of the packet and lighter in his pocket. “Righto.”  
  
“And just promise to tell me things. I’m sorry if I’ve ever given you the impression that I’d be judgemental or whatever about stuff like this. But you need to know that I love you. Um. Yeah.”  
  
“Did you rehearse that?”  
  
“Fuck off, Kyle,” Dan says, and Kyle knows he did, and loves him even more for it.  
  
“Love you too,” he says, picking up the slightly sticky menu and staring at it intently until he feels the blush in his cheeks dissipate.


End file.
